SCOTT, AS IN HOT SCOTT HOCH (YOU KNOW, AS IN CHOKE) MADE SURE HE HAD THE LAST WORD AT THE ANDERSEN MATCHES

You are Scott Hoch, as in choke, and here you are, back in theGeorgia pines, only 70 miles or so from the scene of thedefining moment of your 16-year career on the PGA Tour. It wasmore than seven years ago that you missed that 30-inch putt onthe first playoff hole of the 1989 Masters. One lousy putt.You've hit it over and over in your mind, and every time it goesin dead center. But you missed the one that counted, blowing thebest chance you've had at winning a major championship, and thenewspaper vultures, the guys who couldn't make a tap-in if morethan $5 was at stake, start circling every time you get on aleader board. Hoch, as in choke. Jeez, you're just soooooootired of hearing it.

Now you're at a central Georgia resort known as ReynoldsPlantation, and it's 8 p.m. on Tuesday, April 23, the end of along day of golf. You're holding an expensive crystal bowl thatyou've just been handed for winning the U.S. region of the $3.65million Andersen Consulting World Championship of Golf--is that amouthful, or what?--and your sharp, hawklike face is twisted intothat crooked smile of yours while some guys in blazers andneckties are calling you a "heckuva competitor" and sweet stufflike that. Last year you blew a five-shot lead in the finalround at Houston, and, naturally, the vultures trotted out theMasters thing all over again.

Well, you showed them all, didn't you? To hell with the $200,000prize money and the chance to win another $800,000 in a FinalFour showdown against the winners of the Europe, Japan andInternational regions early next year at the Grayhawk Golf Clubin Scottsdale, Ariz. The money is nice, sure, but thesatisfaction is the thing. You are the match play champion ofthe U.S., and your adrenaline is still flowing, which isslightly amazing considering what you've just survived.Yesterday, in the first round, you eliminated Tom Lehman, oneup. Today you hit your first drive at 9:30 a.m. and then waitedto exhale through 10 hours and 40 holes.

First you put away Mark McCumber, who won the U.S. part of thisnoble experiment last year, outlasting him in a 23-hole marathonthat completely screwed up ESPN's live coverage. Then you tookLee Janzen, the 1993 U.S. Open winner, and just kept layingeight-to-10-foot putts on him, some for birdies and others tosave par, until the 16th hole, when Janzen, down by only a hole,finally came unglued. What finished him off was your secondshot, a semi-impossible seven-iron out of some trees and ontothe green 185 yards away. His concentration gone with the wind,Janzen plunked his second shot into the water on the left. Forthe first time in two days, three matches and 52 holes, you hadthe luxury of a 2-up lead. Janzen also splashed his tee shot onnumber 17, a nasty par-3. He hit from the drop area, hoping fora miracle, but instead fed the fish again. You saw him throw uphis arms but were too far away to hear him cry, "That's it. I'vehad enough."

You're Scott Hoch, as in choke, and you like match play, evenwish there were more of it. But since the PGA Championship wentto medal in 1958, match play has been about as rare on any ofthe world's five pro tours as a six-putt. So you were intriguedin October 1994 when you heard that Tim Smith, who worked asformer PGA Tour commissioner Deane Beman's deputy, had persuadedthe major men's tours to sanction an international match playtournament that would, Smith hoped, include the 32 players wholead the Sony World Ranking.

Last year a lot of the top players took a wait-and-see attitude,meaning that among other things, the first U.S. regional lackedin marquee value. But when everyone saw McCumber pocket a cool$350,000 for finishing third overall to England's Barry Lane, alot of players suddenly started checking their Sony numbers.

You didn't learn that you were officially in this year's fielduntil February, when Fred Couples decided to skip the trip toGeorgia to fulfill a long-standing commitment in Japan. At thetrophy presentation, you remember to smile and thank Couples.Or, as you call him, "the one who really made all thispossible." Hey, that's a joke, as in Hoch.

Talking to the crowd, you get in a couple of shots as crisp asanything you hit on the course. You mention the Ryder Cup.During one five-week stretch last summer, you won three eventson one tour or another, including a victory in the HeinekenDutch Open over a field that included all but two members of theEuropean Ryder Cup team. But did U.S. captain Lanny Wadkins nameyou to his squad? Of course not. So you stand up there clutchingyour crystal bowl, and this is what comes out of your mouth:"Last year both Lee Janzen and I were considered for the RyderCup. We didn't make it, and maybe a reason was they didn't knowhow we could do in match play. I hope we've answered that. Wecan play some match play."

Of all the holes you played at Reynolds Plantation, the one youappreciate the most is the one that closed out the McCumbermatch, the third go-round on the par-3 17th. You had a 21/2-footputt for birdie, but McCumber graciously conceded it to youafter he had missed his birdie attempt. The symbolic import washeavy. Everybody in the gallery was whispering, "Isn't thatabout the same length as...." Yeah, it was. But as you said atthe post-tournament press conference, "I just jarred those kindof putts both days here. I've missed a 2 1/2-footer before, asyou guys probably remember. But this was a different putt underdifferent circumstances."

When you strolled into that press session, only four of thechairs were occupied by note-takers. This was to be expected,considering the newness of the event and the way it wasshoehorned into the Tour schedule, but you couldn't resist."Where is everybody? They all leave? I guess they didn't get thewinner they wanted." There it was again. The bitterness or chipon the shoulder.

When you talk about watching last year's Andersen Consultingdeal on TV, you suddenly remember how angry you were at CBSduring the final round of this year's Masters. "On Sunday atAugusta, it was the Faldo-and-Norman show. They didn't showanybody else." You tied for fifth this year, proof that you canhold your own at the Masters, and you think it would have beennice if the TV audience had seen that the '89 debacle didn'tdestroy you.

So you're Scott Hoch, as in choke, and you're looking forward tothe Final Four in Arizona. Hisayuki Sasaki has won in Japan. Youexpect somebody like Lane or Colin Montgomerie to win theEuropean region. And wouldn't it be something if Norman, whosecollapse on the final day of this year's Masters almost puts apositive spin on your flop, won the International region? Youdidn't see Norman's shocking meltdown because you were on thecourse, playing some high-quality golf that CBS all but ignored.But you regularly checked the scoreboards, and you got thissinking feeling as Greg frittered away a stroke or so on everyhole. That night you and your wife, Sally, agreed that it wouldbe fitting to send Norman a note. You don't reveal the message,except to say that "Been there, done that" is in it somewhere.On the Monday after the Masters, you hear that Norman is gettinga ton of sympathetic faxes and notes and calls. One of them willbe yours, and it's heartfelt. "I felt terrible, awful, for him,"you say. "Sally and I know how he felt."

But you also have a question. When you screwed up, why didn'tyou get the same kind of sympathy? Why did you get contemptinstead of compassion? "They were pretty tough on me, but kindof easy on him," you say. "He deserved the response he received.But all I did was miss a 2 1/2-foot putt, while he had difficultyall day. I'm just not sure I understand that."